Nature of the Job
by eruditedauntlessness
Summary: If the job was easy, anyone could do it, but it's not. The trio are fully committed to the costs of their line of work but Illya hadn't quite bargained for all the sacrifices to this extent.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! Here's a little two shot of our favourite trio. Established Gallya. Hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! x**

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Napoleon was packing up all their things, putting the essentials into three small cases, just in case they really did need to run. Illya was assembling his sniper rifle, ready to shoot anyone planning on shooting them. Gaby paced up and down their quaint London flat, trying to stay calm. U.N.C.L.E. had been compromised. Some old enemies were out for the trio's heads so they were ready and packed to go dark on Waverly's mark. Gaby went to the window, looking out over their street, impatient, paranoid, anxious.

'Gaby, stay back.' Illya rumbled, not even looking up from his rifle.

'Don't go anywhere near the windows until they're boarded up.' Napoleon said to no one in particular, not really paying attention to anything but packing.

'We're sitting ducks in here.' Gaby protested.

'Waverly told us to stay put so that's what we're going to do. He's got some MI5 people out and about watching our backs. Relax, Gaby.' The American tried to reassure her, though even he didn't sound convinced. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them. Out of habit, Gaby headed for the drinks cabinet and poured herself a glass of scotch. It wasn't her favourite but at least it would calm her nerves a little.

Illya put down his rifle, certain it was ready and went to sit next to Gaby on the sofa. She put her drink down and curled into him. The Russian placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

'We're going to be alright chop shop girl.' He murmured into her hair. She just nestled closer into him. Napoleon watched from the other side of their living room. Something was niggling at his gut. He couldn't help but worry that all three of them would make it out unscathed. They'd had a few near misses, sure, but this... Gaby was right. They were sitting ducks.

'Peril, help me board up the windows would you?' Solo held up a piece of plywood of Illya to place in from of the nearest window. Gaby got up again and peered out from behind Illya. From where she stood a glint of lamplight on metal caught her eye. So they were being watched; by a sniper, no less. Illya leaned closer to the window. For a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Gaby leapt over the couch and shoved Illya to the side with all her might. They Russian was stunned and only reacted when he heard the shattering of glass. He watched as Gaby stumbled back, lost her balance, and tumbled over.

'Gaby! He yelled, kneeling beside her. He gave her a once over, noticing blood blossoming from her shoulder.

'I'll get the first aid kit, Peril.' Solo said instantly. 'The shooter will be leaving the building any second. Take the bastard out.' Solo sprinted to the bathroom and returned mere seconds later, already unpacking the first aid kit. He knelt beside Gaby, brushing the hair out of her face. 'Gaby, look at me,' He forced her to make eye contact, 'you've just been shot, alright. Stay awake for me, sweet cheeks. That's it. Stay awake, Gaby.' He coaxed her as he cut open her blouse so that he could get better access to the wound. 'Illya, have you got eyes on the shooter?' Napoleon's question was answered by a single shot. Illya exhaled deeply as he put down the rifle.

'How bad?' The Russian stood over Napoleon and Gaby.

'No exit wound, so getting that out should be interesting to get out. Nothing vitals were hit. Worst-case scenario: broken clavicle. She'll be alright.'

'She shouldn't have been near the window.'

'She saved your life, Peril. Now help me get her onto the kitchen table and board up that damn window.' Illya obliged silently, picking up Gaby as delicately as possible. She cried out in pain as he did so. He hurried to the table, laying her down as gently as he could.

'Illya.' She breathed.

'I'm here, chop shop girl.' He murmured back. 'It's going to be okay.'

'Illya,' Solo interrupted, 'the window. I need to get the slug out of her shoulder and I'd rather do it without being shot in the back.'

'Right.' Illya finally boarded up the window and was back at Gaby's side in an instant.

'Gaby, darling' Solo spoke gently, 'I'm going to need to you hold Illya's hand, alright. You're doing great.' Illya reached for her hand and she gave it his a weak squeeze. 'Now hold on tight because this is going to hurt.' The American warned as he poured the rest of Gaby's scotch over her shoulder. The burn was excruciating but nothing compared to when Solo started digging around inside her for the bullet. It had splintered when it hit the bone, breaking that too, making it all the more difficult for Solo to get all of it out. The pain was unbearable even if it was just a shoulder wound. She'd been in car accidents and beaten senseless before but unlike Solo and Illya, Gaby had never taken a bullet before, so this was definitely a new experience. By the time Solo was done, Gaby was reduced to whimpers, relieved that the digging had stopped. Napoleon stitched up her wound and Illya lay her down on the couch.

'Call Waverly,' Napoleon instructed as he wiped his brow, 'I'm going to clean up.' Illya did as he was told, picking up the receiver and dialling. He explained the situation and took their next set of orders. Illya hung up shortly after and made his way over to Gaby who was barely able to keep her eyes open anymore.

'Hey.' She murmured.

'Hello,' he smiled a little, 'we can leave the second you are fit to move around. Waverly's orders.'

'Good, let's go.' Gaby tried to sit up but Illya eased her back down.

'Slow down chop shop girl, you need to rest.'

'I'm fine.'

'Gaby, you were just shot. You could have a broken clavicle. You are not fine. You were not supposed to be anywhere near the window!' Illya tried not to sound like he was chastising her, losing his cool just a little.

'And you were? You could have died, Illya!' Gaby tried to sound as angry as possible in her condition.

'Gaby, you were not supposed to get hurt. It was not meant to happen like this. I'm supposed to protect you.'

'And I'm supposed to protect _you_. I love you, Illya; I'm not just going to let you get shot because you want to protect me. We're a team.'

' _Da_ , but – '

'Illya, I'm alright. I'm still breathing. We're alive. If the job was easy...' she trailed off and reached out to brush Illya's cheek with her good arm. The Russian leaned into her touch.

'Gaby, you are all that I have. I cannot lose you.'

'You won't.' Gaby drew him to her and pressed a warm kiss to his lips. He looked down at her, his brow creasing. She reached up again and rubbed her thumb along the frown lines between his eyebrows. Solo emerged from the bathroom.

'How you doing Gab?' He came to the sofa.

'Fine, nurse Napoleon,' she joked, 'thank you for taking care of me.'

'Anytime.' He smiled, for the first time in a while, actually. At least they'd made it out to live another day – even if it wasn't completely in one piece.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope you liked chapter one..! They're not really linked apart from references to the last time Gaby was shot but I kind of wanted to clump them together. This is supposed to take place a few weeks after Gaby was shot in London. Hope you enjoy the feels as much as I enjoyed writing them! x**

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Gaby tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as she waited Waverly's instructions.

'Alright Gaby,' his voice finally sounded over the radio, 'I need you to go in. Solo's activated the distress beacon we fitted onto his watch. I suspect they've been caught or something.'

'On it, sir.' Gaby undid her seatbelt and zipped up her jacket.

The team had been sent on a reconnaissance mission to the South of Spain. Being the height of summer, the heat was stifling and unbearable, especially in all their black tactical gear. Gaby silently thanked the night breeze – the only relief she'd had since they arrived that morning. Their mission was to scout out an isolated compound. It was unclear what they were supposed to be looking for but it boiled down to anything peculiar that you wouldn't find in a giant storage compound.

Gaby clambered out of the car and crept slowly towards the facility. The mechanic was only supposed to be the getaway driver – Illya had been adamant. He didn't want her to get shot a second time. Not after London. Her shoulder was almost fully healed now but sometimes she could still feel that dull ache if she overworked in the auto-shop. Gaby made her way through the open gate. The tarmac was littered with dead or unconscious guardsmen. Teller deduced that they could have been outnumbered further on. She crept on, holding her gun at the ready. Even if Illya had taken it upon himself to teach her proper hand-to-hand combat techniques, a gun would have been useful.

Gaby cleared the first two buildings, but nothing. She quietly pushed open the door to the third. Nothing so far. She padded across the floor, thankful for the outdoor floodlighting, illuminating her way through the building via the windows. She made her way past crates and crates, ignoring the actual purpose of the mission – to find anything contraband or unusual. All the cared about was getting her boys back safely. Gaby reached a cleared space in the middle of the floor and lo and behold, the pair were tied up, sitting back to back. Solo looked barely conscious. Illya turned to see her, relief flooding his eyes.

'Gaby.' He breathed. She ran to them and pulled the utility knife Illya had given her from the sheath at her waist.

'What happened?' she asked as she cut the pair loose.

'We found a room full of weapons. They're clearly up for sale or shipment but we got caught in the process of calling it in to Waverly.' Solo explained, fighting to stay awake.

'Cowboy took a few too many punches in the process.' Illya supplied.

'Come on, let's get you two home.' Gaby helped Solo up and tried to support up as much as possible. She gave Illya her gun. 'You're better with it than I am.'

The trio had almost made their way back to the car when they heard someone yell "STOP!"

They turned to find a guard about 20 metres away holding a gun at them. Illya raised Gaby's gun in return. On Illya's mark, they began moving backwards, which was the worst idea Illya had ever had. The guard's gun went off and Illya fired a shot on reflex. It met its target and the poor young man was dead before he hit the floor. Illya tucked the gun into his waistband and turned back to Gaby. His face went white when he saw blood blossoming from her abdomen around her hands. Gaby followed Illya's eyes to her stomach and brought her hands up to see the blood covering them. She looked back at him.

'Illya.' She breathed before collapsing. Luckily the Russian caught her and hoisted her into his arms. Her head lulled into his shoulder as she lost began to lose consciousness.

'Gaby,' he said, his voice shaking, 'no. Hold on, chop shop girl. Hold on.' Illya set off towards the car at a run. Solo not far behind. From the car Napoleon radioed Waverly to get a medical team ready at the nearest hospital. He slammed his foot on the accelerator as they set off towards town. Illya had Gaby across his lap in the back seat. He stroked her clammy forehead. Her breathing was shallow.

'Stay with me, Gaby, keep your eyes open.' He coaxed, like Solo had weeks ago. Illya felt helpless, he didn't know what the hell to do. She was dying in his arms. How had he let this happen a second time? This was not supposed to be how it worked. She was supposed to be safe.

They arrived at the hospital and Illya carried her in and placed her on a bed they had ready and waiting for the trio's arrival. Solo was rushed off to an emergency room for x-rays and stitches. Waverly and Illya followed the nurses to an operating room and watched from the other side of the glass as they cut Gaby open.

'Did you get him?' Waverly asked, not taking his eyes from his agent.

'Yes.' Illya said, trying to control his tapping fingers.

'Good. Well done Kuryakin.'

'Just doing my job.'

'She'll pull through. Don't you worry.' Waverly tried to sound positive before leaving the viewing room to check on Napoleon. Illya watched them fish around for the bullet in her abdomen for what seemed like an eternity. When they were done, they shuffled him out of the waiting room and into a private room hired by Waverly for Gaby's recovery. Illya didn't move. Solo appeared a few hours later. He had two cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder and four stitches above his left eye. Illya took Gaby's hand, willing her to wake up.

'She's going to be okay, Peril. It's Gaby.' The American placed a reassuring hand on Illya's shoulder before leaving the room.

Gaby came to an hour or so later.

'Gaby!' Illya sat up in his chair.

'Hey Mr Red Peril.' Gaby murmured, her voice croaky from the anaesthesia.

'I thought you were gone.' Illya sighed, letting relief flood him.

'Unlucky for you, I'm still here.'

'Gaby, I am so sorry that I let this happen again. You should not have been in the line of fire and I'm sorry.'

'Hey,' Gaby brought a hand up to run in through his golden hair, 'it wasn't you're fault. We had a job to do, Illya.'

' _Da_ , but I could not protect you.'

'Illya, stop this,' Gaby insisted, cupping his cheek. He leaned into her touch, his hand coming to rest on top of hers.

'I did not fall in love with you just so I could lose you, Gaby.' He murmured. 'Please, don't leave.' Gaby's heart skipped a beat at his words. She sat up in her bed as best she could before giving him a response. She was never one for heartfelt discussions but as time had gone on, Illya had become more comfortable with baring his soul, something she'd never done in her life. He knew how she felt about him, that much was obvious but she still resorted to humour.

'I'm not going anywhere, Kuryakin.' She said, her eyes boring into his. Without realising, Illya was leaning closer and closer to her. 'I'm going to be around for so long that you'll get bored of me.' She whispered before gently leaning in to kiss him. Their lips barely brushed before Illya leaned away again.

'Gaby, please.' Illya asserted.

'What?' Gaby said as indignantly as she could. She knew what, but she hated his sentimentality sometimes. 'Illya, you know I love you, I always will, but neither of us can promise to the other that we will always come back in one piece. You know that better than anyone.' She lectured, 'It comes with the territory.' Illya stayed silent, knowing she was right. 'Come here.' Gaby pulled him to her away and kissed him fully.

'I love you.' Illya murmured in Russian.

'I love you too.' Gaby whispered in German.

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 **So...! Thoughts? x**


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